


Don't Find Me

by Akua



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: All the swearing, Comfort, Cuteness overload, EVERYONE PROFANITY, Harry is ignoring his friends, Harry needs to relax, Hermione did her best, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Letters, M/M, Nightlights, Pity Party, Pre-Arcobaleno, Skull is a good boy, Skull is a sunshine child, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, all the healing, apprehensive of the dark, emotional trauma via magic, emotions are a thing, exploring life, flame puns everywhere, forehead pokes, it all ends with tears, magic PTSD, motorbike anatomy, post-war angst, running away from our problems, wallowing, wand problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akua/pseuds/Akua
Summary: "You're so skinny, you should eat more!""Maybe you should feed me more...""Sure. Come to America with me then."((Harry needed to do anything but stay still in the ruins of his life. And Skull offered an open hand and a place to be. Harry had spent his whole life preparing to die. It was time he learned to live a little, isn't it?))





	1. Chapter 1

It started small. But over time it had become wrecking.

 

Holding a wand in hand was much like holding a hot coal, now.

 

It hurt.

 

Logically, Harry knew that his hand physically wasn’t on fire. Hermione had dragged him straight to a healer right after his whispered complaint. There was nothing wrong with his fixed wand. There was nothing wrong with his hand.

 

But every time he held his wand, every time he even touched it—it hurt. Agony raced up his fingers and down his arm. It wasn’t even just his own wand. It was Hermione’s wand. It was the healer’s wand. It all hurt. Harry stared down at his hand, fuzzily watching his fingers move for a moment before he reached out to the whiskey he had on the table.

 

Everything was just… unraveling.

 

Everything was _supposed to get better._

 

Voldemort was dead. The Death Eaters disbanded and were being hunted down. Kingsley was interim minister. Diagon Ally was open to the public once more with no fear of disappearing. The camps had been disbanded. Wands had been returned. Everything was on the up and up.

 

Everything but Harry, that is.

 

Harry dropped his face to rest on the table.

 

It was like… a world gone silent. Or perhaps just gone?

 

Harry felt ill every time he stepped in to a magical place. His stomach hurt. His skin crawled. It felt like he couldn’t even breathe.

 

He couldn’t even stand being in Grimmald Place.

 

Couldn’t stand to look at Ginny.

 

“I can’t do anything…” Harry murmured to himself. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was green. Green and red. Dazzling bright lights that burned his eyes from just the memory of it all.

 

“Can’t sleep… can’t eat…” Harry moaned to himself.

 

It was probably what led him to hear. Everything was hazy to his senses. Trapped between a painful hyperawareness and a stifling fugue. Harry blinked at his hotel room. With its dingy little table, cot like bed, and horrid floral chair under a tiny prison like window.

 

Harry had stood up one day, left the Leaky Cauldron, and landed here.

 

Harry had thrown up shortly after casting the wards necessary to keep owls and tracking spells away from his person. He had shortly started to drown himself in alcohol shortly afterward, if only to stop his wallowing. But considering that this was the first time he had ever consumed such heavy alcohol with full intent to black out—it wasn’t going like he imagined it would. His stomach felt sour—his head was heavy. And it still felt like his skin was crawling underneath.

 

It figures that he was the kind of drunk person that would… wallow.

 

Harry jumped to his feet. “I’m not going to wallow away!”

 

The irritated pounding on the wall to Harry’s left, and the incomprehensible yelling from his neighbor had Harry ducking his head, hands raised by his ears as he eyed the apparently thin wall separating the rooms.

 

“Shut up!” Harry yelled at the wall the longer the yelling on the other side continued.

 

Harry ground his teeth together against the aggressive pounding of a fist to the wall.

 

Well, if the other wasn’t going to stop… Harry marched right over to the wall and slammed his own fist in to the wall, as quickly and as loudly as he could before it started to make his hand hurt just a bit too much.

 

A long, wordless scream from the other side before Harry heard stomping, a door slamming… and then something heavier than a fist slamming against his hotel room door.

 

If Harry had an active conscience, he would claim that answering such a summoning was obviously a very, very bad idea.

 

The inhibited, fed up, and self-pitying part of him was rather large at the moment and wanted to spread his hurt to everyone in the vicinity. Harry didn’t even have to think about it. His hand landed on his lock, and with a jerk he had his door open and a boot in his face.

 

Harry went down hard—blood instantly flowing out of his nose.

 

“Shit—!” The voice above him choked.

 

… this called for retaliation.

 

Harry snapped a foot out and tripped the man in to the room. The man went down screaming, landing on the floor next to Harry. Harry kicked his door closed and swung a fist. It landed in something soft and he heard an ‘oof!’ before something hard knocked in to Harry’s stomach.

 

Hard.

 

Harry choked, flailing hard—his elbow got something that went crunch, and an arm was trying to wrap around his neck and—

 

It was just a messy pile of flailing limbs. Harry didn’t know how long they went on for before the other man successfully wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck and waited him out in to submission. Eventually, all of Harry’s energy disappeared, and he sagged in the pin that the stranger had him in.

 

“… you done, asshole?” The voice—young and exhausted, whined against Harry’s hair.

 

“… yeah, m’done.” Harry murmured in to the carpet.

 

The man let out a long sigh and untangled his arms before sagging in to the carpet next to Harry.

 

“… ow.” Harry mumbled. Although when he got no reaction, he repeated himself. “ _Ow_.”

 

“Fuck you—if you’re hurting it’s your own damn fault.” The man hissed, a lamp hand coming out to smack the middle of Harry’s back. It didn’t really hurt, but Harry hissed all the same. Harry also raised a limp hand and socked the man in the side.

 

The man snorted, “don’t dish out what you can’t take, you dip.” 

 

As if a minor fisticuffs could compare with a crucio.

 

Although the thought didn’t help much, considering that his vision had gone dark and he was fading fast. Between one exhausted blink and the next, Harry woke to pre-dawn light. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his nose felt clogged and tender (a lot of things felt tender, actually).

 

And he was wrapped around in someone’s arms, a leg hitched over his middle like some demented pillow.

 

Harry slowly craned his head back and blinked up at—purple hair. Obnoxious purple hair, coupled with a young baby face—

 

“… you’re a punk!” Harry near yelled, and then winced to himself at his own volume.

 

The man jumped, and blearily opened an impossibly purple eye at Harry. One look at Harry and the man theatrically groaned.

 

“Come on! You can’t stay up super late being a loud shit, and then wake up super early also being loud!” The man wailed, and Harry groaned at the level of noise the other was achieving. Harry merely sighed and dropped his head on the stranger’s shoulder. Harry’s head felt like it was splitting in half and he was going a little crazy from the overload of sensation.

 

“… broke my nose.” Harry slurred.

 

“… sorry.” The man murmured, eventually shifting and loosening his hold on Harry enough to sit up. The man even nicely pulled Harry up with him. Which Harry was thankful for. Harry shuffled a bit to the side and moved to lean against the wall in the tiny hallway next to his hotel door.

 

Harry eyed the leather the man was wearing for a long moment before he raised his eyes and locked with the queer purple the other man sported. Harry noted that the man looked pale and haggard. Although at the eye up, the purple haired stranger quirked a tired grin. He opened his mouth—

 

“Don’t you dare,” Harry hissed. If he heard one pick up line from this man, he would throw another punch. Exhaustion or no exhaustion.

 

“So, what’s your name hot stuff?” Well, that there was pure deliberate.

 

Harry kicked him in the leg. The idiot actually giggled.

 

“… M’Harry.”

 

“Harry…?”

 

“Just Harry.”

 

“Dunno—you’re pretty clean shaven to be _hairy_.” He quirked, and Harry narrowed his eyes , pointing a finger at the stranger in silent warning. Wow, this was like talking with one of the younger years when you told them ‘no’ and they deliberately did the thing that they were just told off from doing.

 

“You can call me Skull—Mr. Hairy.” The stranger, ‘Skull’, grinned all teeth and some strange form of pure mirth at the situation.

 

Harry dropped his hand with a breath, “you’re horrible.”

 

“I’m the best kind of horrible.” Skull laughed as he rolled over and on to his knees. “Anyway, let me look at your nose alright? I don’t think my boot actually broke it.”

 

“Oi, I’m not letting you touch my nose!” Harry hissed, already scrambling to stand himself. Harry didn’t get too far before Skull threw a leg over Harry’s two legs and crouched over him. Harry reached out to shove the other man out of his space, but merely got his hands redirected to the side before there were thumbs pressing into his cheekbones.

 

“Side note—aren’t you a might bit too young for the drinking thing you have going on?” Skull added, eyes focused on Harry’s nose.

 

“Aren’t you a bit too baby faced for the black lipstick?” Harry huffed.

 

“It’s not black, it’s rouge berry!” A pause, and then, “… or it might be my black honey one—can’t remember which one I put on last…” Skull hummed and shifted his bodyweight back a little as he sat back more firmly on his heels even as he leaned away from Harry a bit. “It’s not broken, by the way.”

 

“Good,” Harry hummed, and promptly shoved the other back.

 

“Cheap!” Skull managed to hiss out, arms flailing as he landed solidly on his bum.

 

A moment of silence and then—

 

“So hey, Mr. Harry NoLastName—you rudely interrupted me when I was creating a stage name for myself. So you gotta help me.” Skull scooted back until his back touched the wall of the hall opposite to Harry. Although the hall wasn’t that large. Their legs remained largely entangled with each other.

 

“Why would I help with that?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest, and then winced at the feeling of his bruised fingers contorting in to loose fists.

 

“Because you inconvenienced me last night—and I have like, an hour before I need to submit my stage name to my agent!” Skull pitched his voice high, and Harry winced and gave the other a little kick to stop.

 

“ _Fine_! Stop that racket.” Harry glared, and Skulls’ smug grin didn’t ease the annoyance that Harry was feeling. “Lemme think.”

 

What was the most terrible name he could think of? “Is Skull part of your stage name?”

 

“Yes, I need a last name—I’ll be doing stunts for movies in Hollywood!” And then the purple haired man continued to blather on and on. Harry dubiously eyed the other, and firmly settled the man as a ‘chatter box’ in his head.

 

Annoying. Utterly annoying.

 

In a naïve, joyful way. A bitter part of Harry wanted to snuff out that happiness, if only to share his own misery.

 

The side that was growing larger and larger the longer Harry was in this man’s presence—wanted to help protect this simple joy.

 

… still annoying, though.

 

Skull Longbottom? (The name itself was annoying, not really the man that currently owned the Longbottom name...)

 

Skull Malfoy? (Sounded rather off. Not a great stage name...)

 

“How about Skull deMort?” Harry quipped, a curling grin taking over his features in such a way that he couldn’t help but grin through the small pain his face felt.

 

“Is that French? It sounds fancy.” Skull tilted his head to the side.

 

“Yeah, it’s a bit French I think.” Harry shrugged.

 

“… I like it! Sounds rather gruesome. Mort is ‘death’ right?” Skull’s smile was large, probably only so large because apparently his mouth was so wide.

 

“Yeah. Mort is death. You ever learn any French?” Harry asked, because even as someone who never actively learned French he could probably passably ask for help in the language just from sheer exposure.

 

Skull whined, “languages are hard!”

 

A moment later, Skull’s stomach grumbled.

 

“C’mon little fisticuffs man—let’s go do some breakfast!”

 

“I’d rather not…” Harry trailed off. He didn’t have a great history with food lately. Or appetite...

 

“Aw, why not?” Skull asked, jumping to his feet with extreme energy.

 

Harry looked away, toward his unused bed. “I think I’ll sleep.”

 

Harry let out a rather involuntary yell as his arms were grabbed and he was jerked to his feet. Skull’s unrepentant grin so close to his face was only a little bit annoying at this point. It was the gentle, warm hands on his forearms that brought most of his ire really.

 

“Come eat with me. As a thank you! I was really having trouble with that name.” Skull egged Harry on, edging Harry toward the door.

 

Harry let out a breath and shrugged his shoulders, “thought you said I owed you.”

 

“Hee, well that too. Let’s mix it up?” Skull cocked his head to the side, dropping Harry’s arms. Although he paused before he leaned in close and sniffed at Harry’s shoulder. Harry and Skull grimaced at the same time.

 

“You might, uh, wanna dress in something other than rags?”

 

“… I don’t have anything but this.” Harry mumbled.

 

Ultimately that was how, a few minutes later, Harry found himself at the café next to the hotel in loose leather pants and a purple shirt. “… baby wipes, seriously?” Harry asked, rubbing at his elbow.

 

“It’s good in a pinch,” Skull gave a little shrug, “sleep in late and you don’t wanna smell like body—a little wipe of baby, uh, wipe—right as rain!”

 

Well, Harry would have appreciated this a little while ago. A few months ago. When he was wandering the woods with Hermione and Ron. Well, in the beginning it would have been appreciated. After a while being nose dead was fine for the most part. Cleaning charms only stretched so far after a time.

 

A waitress bustled by and delivered their coffees and breakfast sandwiches. The sun was just coming up, but the little sunshine café was packed. Harry and Skull were squished in to a corner.

 

All the same, they had their drinks and food. “… thanks for, um… buying breakfast.” Harry poked at his sandwich, staring down at his breakfast if only so he wouldn’t have to look Skull in the eye.

 

“The more the merrier,” Skull hummed, swiping up his coffee to give a loud slurp. “Eat!” Skull prodded after a moment of silence.

 

Harry sighed, picked up his sandwich, and gave a reluctant bite.

 

… it tasted like… fresh bread. And tomatoes. Some kind of cheese—Harry blinked and stared down at the toasted bread. It tasted like how he had expected it to. It tasted like normal. Like his memory said it should.

 

It wasn’t ashes and death and green-green light—

 

“… It’s good.” Harry murmured.

 

“You’re welcome,” at Skull’s words, Harry raised his eyes to look at Skull’s beaming face. “You’re so skinny, you should eat more!” Skull added with a little huff.

 

“Maybe you should feed me more,” Harry mumbled, but Harry soon froze in place when he noticed that Skull had frozen in place as well at those words. “Um… that is, I… uh…” Harry choked on his embarrassment.

 

“Sure. Come to America with me then.”

 

Harry didn’t think it was possible for his face to feel any hotter—but those words from Skull made him feel like there was fiendfyre in his veins. Harry stared at the sandwich in his hands for a moment longer before he raised his eyes and focused on Skull.

 

There was nothing but serious determination on Skull’s face.

 

It was comforting, if nothing else, to see the jokes ease away for this.

 

Harry couldn’t stand to be in the magical world anymore. And this—this would be as good of a time as any to just leave. “How would I get a passport for that?”

 

“You can be my bike mechanic! You know anything about motorbikes?” Skull smiled—the seriousness drifting away like clouds dissipating under a joyful sun.

 

“Uh—I know they can be loud?”

 

“That’s a start!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I just started writing to de-stress from general life. It got pretty bad and I didn't write for a few weeks. This is just something fun I wanted to get out. Decided to share. 
> 
> Thank you for waiting patiently for my other stories. I'll be getting to them soon. 
> 
> I may just end this story here. I haven't planned out a plot. I left the option to continue in case inspiration strikes. But this also might remain a one shot. 
> 
> Exploring Skull's character is rather fun. This is all pre-Arcobaleno stuff. Skull going off to be a stuntman, just entering his life. It was a cute thought that I wrote. The words didn't even reach three thousand. 
> 
> I'm hoping to finish the next chapter of Carry On next week sometime. After my final and my annual work review. I hope I get a raise. I'm really poor... 
> 
> ((If any of my Carry On readers are here... there has been a lot of related works and gift fics. I really want to say that they're awesome. But I also had to stop reading them because shades of my future plans kept appearing there. It weirded me out a little. I'll have to read everything when I'm done writing. But I recommend reading everything. They're fun.)) 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Should I go?” Harry asked, talking to himself but knowing Skull would answer regardless.
> 
> A beat of silence, and then, “is there anywhere else you’d rather be?”

“It’s been, um, five days…” Harry crossed his arms over his stomach and slouched in the chair. It was a muggle bank—but with the code, Harry had gotten in to the non-muggle section. Harry glanced up at the goblin and immediately lowered his eyes when he felt his stomach cramping.

 

Do not throw up on the goblin. Do not throw up on the goblin.

 

The stony silence made Harry scuff his borrowed boots on the tile. The chair he was in creaked with the shifting of his weight.

 

“… yeah, five days, and… um… How much was the damages? Do I… have enough in my vaults to cover the cost?” Harry peeked up at the goblin through his bangs and settled to staring at his knees. “I.. can’t make excuses, so I’ll accept the burden of my decision.”

 

Sure, there was some resentment that would probably exist forever on Harry’s end. But then again he, Ron, and Hermione had all entered the bank under false pretense. That itself was a crime. And it was probably only Harry’s hero status that kept him from being stabbed at the front door. That, and this was a muggle branch.

 

“Mr. Potter, you do have enough to cover damages. As well as the damage to our extensive security measures. It won’t be kind on your finances.” The goblin rumbled, pointed fingers curling in polite fists on top of the desk between them.

 

Harry took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the need to throw up. “It’s fine. Just pay it and we can be done?”

 

The goblin let out a breath. “Do you have any wish to file a claim now or in the future to contest this payment?”

 

“No,” Harry was feeling a little woozy.

 

“Sign this.” A paper and clipboard were shoved under Harry’s nose, a quill not far behind. Harry blurred over the legal jargon, eventually found a highlighted, frank portion, and signed away. The clipboard, paper, and quill were yanked away before Harry could do much more.

 

The goblin shoved the items away in a drawer, and cleared his throat.

 

“Um.. I need a passport, too.” Harry added, before he could be shooed out. “I was hoping… I have enough finances for a muggle passport?”

 

“Quite. One moment…” The goblin prepared several forms, confirmed a fee, and soon a photographer came and took a woozy picture of Harry. Ten minutes later, Harry had the passport in hand and was walking out of the bank.

 

He walked right in to an anxious Skull.

 

“There you are! You’re looking even paler than when you went in. You alright?” Harry took a deep breath and let it out slow. And took another one for good measure before he looked up to Skull. Skull was perhaps a few centimeters taller, just enough to be considered taller, but still similar enough in heights that they could share clothes without too much of a problem.

 

“Fine, really…” Harry demurred, shrugging off the hands at his elbows. Harry turned to the right and started to walk back to the hotel.

 

After their breakfast, Harry had come over here. And really, he hadn’t thought too deeply over his actions until now.

 

It had been five days since the final battle. That had been May second.

 

It was now the seventh.

 

“Everything is moving so fast…” Harry murmured as he slowed to a stop. Skull slowed, and eventually stopped next to Harry as well. A moment later, and Skull had shuffled them close to a bicycle rack to get them out of foot traffic.

 

Skull cocked his head to the side, his purple hair flowing to cover his ears as Skull leaned toward Harry.

 

“Do you not want to come?” Skull asked, purple eyebrows drawn together.

 

Harry dropped his gaze and shrugged.

 

Warm hands gently wrapped around the back of Harry’s neck, nudging Harry a step closer.

 

“I want you to come. You look lost—and I’ve been there before. All alone in that room without another shred of clothing or luggage to call your own.” Skull’s voice was soft, and his hands were so forgiving that when Harry minutely shifted backwards, Skull didn’t immediately pull him forward. “I’ve been lost too, in the past. I’d rather not leave anyone in such a place. Even when they’re up at two in the morning shouting about wallowing.”

 

Harry glanced up to catch the grin on Skull’s face.

 

“… hey, by the way—how old are you, Mr. Harry Nolastname?” Skull asked, lips split wide in a sunny smile. “Or am I not supposed to ask?”

 

Harry let out a breath and minutely shook his head. “M’ 18.”

 

“Cool. No offense, but if you weren’t that I doubt I could smuggle you along with me.” Skull laughed, clapped Harry on the shoulder before sliding an arm around said shoulders and pulling them along.

 

The arm was heavy. And Harry kept stumbling while trying to fell in sync with Skull’s strides. Well, stumbling until Skull noticed and shortened his stride a tad. The arm was still heavy, though. It burned hot over Harry’s shoulders. He almost wanted to duck away from it.

 

“Should I go?” Harry asked, talking to himself but knowing Skull would answer regardless.

 

A beat of silence, and then, “is there anywhere else you’d rather be?”

 

There was Hogwarts. Where he could help fix the castle. The dead were all moved by now. Harry had helped haul bodies in to rows. Rows and _rows of slack faced pale children—_

 

There was Diagon Alley. Seeing his face would raise spirits. People always acted more lively when he was there. Instead of sallow faced, drawn _and dreaded and so, so afraid—_

 

Grimmald Place—where Sirius suffered _imprisonment before his eventual—_

 

“… no. I don’t have anywhere that I know, that I want to be.” Harry murmured. The homes of his friends, the very idea made him feel guilty. He hadn’t been able to save everyone. Not Fred. Not Remus. Not Tonks. Or little Colin Creevy…

 

54 lives lost.

 

It was just the beginning. Because those were just the children with a smattering of adults. The adults, the people that should have been resisting and fighting but didn’t—they had been losing numbers as well? How many lives had been lost over the course of the last year? How many could Harry have saved? If only _… if only…_

 

“Hello?” Skull gently rapped his knuckles against Harry’s head. Harry turned to look.

 

“You got a little lost there. Don’t get your head stuck in the clouds, okay?” Skull added, tightening the arm around Harry’s shoulders. “But if you do, I’ll just step in and find you till you leave such a thing on your own, yeah?”

 

“Why are you being so nice?” It slipped out before Harry could stop it.

 

Skull hummed, his eyes drifting away to look at the cars stopped at a light. “Is it so hard, to offer to help?” Skull deliberated. Eyes back on Harry now. He smiled, and Harry supposed it looked very natural on Skull’s face. “No one deserves to be alone in anything. A little bit of help—even if I can’t pull you out of the waters that you’re drowning in, I can keep you afloat until you get the energy to save yourself. Catch my meaning?”

 

“… a bit, yeah.” Harry trailed, before he added, “did someone help you like this, in the past?”

 

“As the Americans would say, bingo!” Skull snapped his fingers, the sound surprisingly loud considering the leather gloves.

 

Harry frowned, “… do Americans say that?”

 

“Yeah! My agent is American, and he says they do.”

 

“Not having you on, is he?”

 

“…. Maybe another source would be ideal?” Skull drummed the fingers of the arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulder on Harry’s upper arm.

 

Harry huffed, “don’t think too hard, you might break something.”

 

Skull gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to his heart, “you wound me!”

 

Harry felt the laugh being ripped out of him. The smile on his face was there until he noticed it. Then it dropped.

 

Shame—why should he be happy, when so many were dead and never _going to be happy a—_

 

“Hey!” Harry huffed at the knuckle knock to his head.

 

“Going cloudy up there again,” Skull pointed out, and then promptly jerked them in to an office building. Skull sat Harry down in a waiting room, pointed to the door where he would be, and disappeared to talk to his agent.

 

Harry spent some time staring at his shoes. Then at the walls. The ceiling. The dingy Monet print in a cheap frame in this windowless room. A secretary passed by twice to ask if he needed assistance. Once to bring him a cup of water. Which Harry sneakily dumped in to the potted plant next to his seat (don’t take anything from strangers—constant vigilance) when the lady wasn’t looking.

 

In the end, Harry didn’t know how long he sat for before he nodded off.

 

“Hey,” Skull crooned, cupping Harry’s head to avoid an awful whiplash jerk as Harry startled. “Easy there. I’m ready to go, you?”

 

“Um, yes.” Harry fuzzily got to his feet and accepted the arm around his shoulders.

 

“You shouldn’t sleep in public, you know. Beds are so much better for your posture.” Skull chattered on.

 

Of course, “… are you saying that I slouch?” Harry narrowed his eyes.

 

“… I’m not saying your posture is perfect?” Skull widened his eyes to do his best innocent look. But from the curl in the corners of his mouth, Harry just knew that the other was being purely deliberate about this.

 

Harry knocked his elbow in to Skull’s side, getting a huffing laugh from Skull as they ambled on.

 

“Let’s get something to chow down on… you up for some Micky D’s?” Skull pointed to the large golden ‘M’ above a little restaurant. The M was vaguely familiar as something that Dudley had eaten. A little red box with that M on the side, and a cheap little toy inside.

 

“Dunno, never eaten the food.” Harry murmured, eyes already drifting.

 

The drumming of Skull’s fingers on Harry’s upper arm stopped. So Harry looked over to Skull. Skull blinked. Harry blinked. And the silence went on for a moment before Skull spoke. “… huh. Let’s remedy that now. Want a kid’s meal?” Skull was all toothy grin there.

 

“I have a feeling that that might be an insult,” Harry squinted.

 

“Nah, not at all! You’ll even get a _toy_!” Skull laughed and darted for the doors.

 

Childish, indeed. Harry let out a breath and jogged after Skull. Skull had already darted inside, and Harry placed his hand on the door before he paused. Right here, he could just leave and not come back. He could go back to the Wizarding world, and leave this odd muggle boy behind. With his friendly smile and pretty offers.

 

Harry could go back to repairing, mending, and fixing all that was broken. Like he was meant to. As he was expected to. Harry took a step back from the door.

 

 _“Is there anywhere else you’d rather be?”_ Skull’s voice echoed even now.

 

Was there anywhere else that wasn’t tainted with shame and bad memories?

 

And nothing came to mind. Everyone that was family to him, that was blood family—they were dead. Sirius was gone. All the Marauders dead. His Aunt completely out of the picture.

 

The war… took everything from Harry.

 

It took his peace.

 

It took his feeling of safety.

 

It took his happiness.

 

… but Skull could make him smile. Made him even laugh.

 

… But Teddy.

 

Another step away from the doors. Harry watched a young couple go in. Hand in hand.

 

Teddy had his grandmother. Who would treasure him.

 

Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys—they all had each other.

 

And right now… right now Harry could have this. Harry pushed through the door and searched for purple hair. He found Skull in a booth with a tray with oodles of heaping food and about four separate drink containers. Skull was sprawled back and staring out the window as he shoved French fries in his mouth.

 

Wasn’t even looking at the door, let alone Harry.

 

Harry quietly sat down across from Skull. Gaining Skull’s attention with the gesture. Skull paused, and then smiled again.

 

“Here, try some nuggets.” Skull nudged a box toward Harry. “And a coffee—I like coffee. Didn’t know if you’ve ever had it or not.” Harry soon had a hot drink in hand, and chicken nuggets in the other.

 

It was strange, but still. Harry somehow felt like smiling.

 

Skull seemed to share that sentiment as well.

 

They smiled. They ate.

 

And Harry felt like he could stay. That he should. He wanted to. Even if he was most likely, inevitably going to leave. He could enjoy the now, before he inevitably returned to the wizarding world. He just needed to heal for a little bit, and then he’d be right as rain. And Harry and Skull could part as friends.

 

“Thank you,” Harry murmured after a sip of coffee.

 

Skull dropped his chin in to his hand, elbow on the table as he watched Harry take another bite. “You’re welcome,” Skull murmured. And nudged a wrapped burger toward Harry.

 

“I’m feeding you more—am I keeping up my end?” The smile oozed in to Skull’s smile.

 

Harry smiled in return, “yeah. What about dinner?”

 

“Finish your late lunch,” Skull chided before he reached for his own burger from the pile.

 

Harry shrugged, “if you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so I just wrote for an hour because I fried my brain studying calculus.   
>  (schrodinger's limit... ahaha.) 
> 
> This is turning mostly in to a happy little fic full of healing. Hopefully my natural penchant to ruin things for fun doesn't pop up too strongly. In any case, mysterious Skull past. Teenagers being dorks. All the flame puns. 
> 
> But yeah. Skull is a nice boy. With purple lipstick and punk purple hair.   
> Harry has issues accepting he can heal. And that he can have wants.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns about anatomy.
> 
> Motorbike anatomy.

“How is this going to help me?” Harry wiggled his sooty looking fingers in front of his face for a moment before he looked up to Skull. They had spent the last several hours sitting with this monster of a bike, and Harry really didn’t think this bike mechanic ‘cover’ was going to last long. It all just looked so… the same.

 

Skull, half sprawled over the smooth leather seat, merely turned his head to let it hang upside down. He lazily blinked and with a twist of his lips, “you need to know how something works before you use it.”

 

Harry scoffed, “I’m not going to ride a motorbike.”

 

Once was enough.

 

_A flash of green behind his eyes, the falling form of Hedwig—_

 

Harry slapped away Skull’s pale hand before it could poke at him between his eyebrows. Skull’s pokes were more terrible jabs than gentle nudges. “I’m not _cloudy_ ,” Harry near hissed.

 

Smug, “now you aren’t.” The purple man even laughed when Harry reached out and tried to shove him off from his perch on top of the bike. Harry soon found it impossible to shove Skull off from a seated position, and the annoyance burned out too quick for him to put in a concentrated effort.

 

“But still… there is just so much… metal.” Harry trailed off, leaning back on his hands. He only smelled thick oil now, he had been here so long. It was making him jittery, really. He was too used to organic stone and greenery. The garage they were in was all solid lines, grey, and full of cars. The light was nice—but filtered and grey. The whole place was just hazy. “It’s hard to focus.” Harry grumbled, reached out to poke at the metal of where the engine was supposed to be.

 

Harry rubbed a finger over the chrome rim. It squeaked. One pass put a smear. Second pass took it off.

 

“Well, you are a bit cloudy.” Skull hummed, dropping on to the ground next to Harry, languidly stretching his legs out for a moment before neatly folding them so he could lean forward.

 

Harry let out an aggrieved sigh.

 

He was starting to hate that term. ‘Cloudy’. It reminded him too much of Trelawney. Harry didn’t want to actively bring that shade back in to his life, but every time he heard the word ‘cloud’ mentioned, he always thought about her and her stupid third eye. (And how it had brought such pain and destruction in to his life…)

 

A jab between his eyebrows soon had Harry’s head thrown back, “augh! You’re terrible!” Harry raised his voice, flailing his arms to ward off any more pokes as he fought to catch his balance.

 

Harry heard a chuckle behind his ear first, and then saw black leather clad legs appear on either side of himself as Skull settled in to sit behind Harry. Harry hadn’t even realized he had gotten chilled in the borrowed t-shirt and jeans until he felt how warm Skull was. The arms came next, flowing around and wrapping around Harry’s hands.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked with a sigh, more than willing to give in to the inanity of Skull after constant exposure over the last three days.

 

Skull leaned forward, and Harry felt the chin on his shoulder, and felt the hard, gelled hair against his ear. “I’m going to help you learn, of course. Relax your fingers.” Skull’s voice was a murmur, but so close and Harry could hear it perfectly.

 

He relaxed his fingers, and watched Skull nearly wrap his entire hands around Harry’s own from the backs of Harry’s hands. Skull brought Harry’s left hand in, pressed it against Harry’s stomach and cocooned the chilled appendages with warmth. Skull took their right hands, and reached out to press their combined fingers to the piece of metal over the front tire. That sat between the tire and the rest of the bike.

 

“This is the front fender—on a car, it’s that metal thing in front that is designed to take impact during accidents. Here, not so much.” Harry couldn’t help but listen as Skull spoke. Their joined hands moved, to the metal rods that were on either side of the tire, and to what the fender was attached to. “This is the front suspension. A bit further down and we have the wheel rim, the brake disk, and the brake calper.” Skull listed off each one as their fingers touched it. Harry mentally placed the names in his mind even as they moved on.

 

“Of course, this big old thing if the headlight,” Skull continued, their hands going up to the large circle that held the light bulb. “The yellow bits are the turn signals. When we get closer to riding this beauty, I’ll have to try those out. But not right now.” Skull shifted, leaning further in to Harry, which pushed Harry forward a bit, allowing their joined reach to extend to the pump behind the handlebars, but before the seat.

 

“This is the fuel tank, the cap on top.” Skull smiled, and Harry could feel it through his thin shirt. “The seat, for the driver. Front for the driver—back for the passenger. That flows in to the rear fender, tail lights, and back turn signals. This thing here is the foot peg for the passenger. And here is the rider…”

 

“You’re starting to skip around,” Harry huffed, pushing to lean back if only to get a pause. Skull huffed and complied, shifting to loosely draw up his legs on either side so his knees were slightly bent rather than straight out.

 

Skull nudged his head against the side of Harry’s cheek, “settle down. There is a lot more to learn.”

 

“We’re getting to the fiddly bits, aren’t we?” Harry sighed.

 

Another chuckle, and their right hands moved out again.

 

Chain. Swingarm. Shock absorbers. The radiator. The engine. The brakes. Final drive sprocket. The exhaust.

 

From there, all the little parts that they had skipped over for the overall picture were soon brushed over. Of course, Skull didn’t stop at just naming everything now. “So, the frame itself is made from steel. I made sure this one doesn’t have any aluminum bits. This dear was built to be solid.” Skull brought out both of their hands to press Harry’s palms against the frame. The purple of the frame so dark it almost seemed black. “The engine and gearbox are mounted to the frame. Of course, because it is steel, it brings us back to suspension—without this, we’d lose control of the bike from how rough the streets are. Suspension is made from these big springs and shock absorbers. They work together to keep the wheels flush with the road. And it, as the name implies, absorbs shocks, bumps, and jolts that happen when driving.”

 

They hands finally moved to where the wheel connected to the front. “The front wheel and this axle, are mounted to this thing called a fork—it has internal shock absorbers and springs as well as the other ones.” Skull nudged Harry’s lax fingers forward until Harry moved on his own to brush the fingers of both hands over the small spring. “This part functions as an assist to our nice suspension with the force of driving.”

 

“One of the most important parts of the bike—well, most of it is important, but if nothing remember this part—is the battery and engine. The battery of this model is located under the seat.” They unlocked the seat and pushed it up, and Skull used his bodyweight to push them both up and on to their knees, shifting a bit to crouch next to Harry rather than behind him for this. Harry peered in to the almost compartment. “To keep the bike in healthy condition, you actually have to charge this. Without the battery, all the electrical functions cease. You really don’t want that to happen.”

 

From there, they moved to the engine. “This creates the drive of our bike… it does this thing with fuel and air to make a combustion effect. Ah, wait—the anatomy first. Crankshaft. Valva train. Piston. Cylinder.” Skull continued his chatter after making sure the innards of the engine were on display for Harry to see. “So, the pistons here move because of the combustion, ignited by a series of sparks. Which then the kinetic energy of the pistons moves up to the crankshaft—which then moved to the back wheel, next to the transmission…” The transmission area looked strangely delicate compared to the engine area. All thin metal rods and gears.

 

“The bike moves because of this. Crankshaft to transmission—which powers the rear wheel. Which makes it drive. The power of this bike is the rear wheel… so, this part of the system is controlled by using gears, the clutch, and the drive system… so, this bike has six gears—and depending on what you’d life, you can increase and decrease speed.” Skull continued, eyes on his bike even when Harry glanced over to him. Harry felt the hand covering his left hand disappear, and soon a hand was on his hip, nudging his body backwards a bit as they leaned away from the bike.

 

“…the clutch is used to disengage power from the transmission and change the gears…” Harry heard, and some small part of himself resented the fact that now he was retaining information, even though he was pretty sure Skull had spewed all of this information previously.

 

They moved to the brake system—which seemed terribly important. Caliper, piston, rotor, and hub. Brakes on the front and rear wheel. Right hand grip for the front brake. Right foot for the rear brake. It’s a pressure system. Pressing the brakes makes the brake pads move, which then squeeze the brake disk and the wheel—slows everything down…

 

Harry wasn’t counting the minutes. And really, it was the warmth that made him focus so well. Harry was shocked when Skull let go and leaned back with a, “and that’s it!”

 

“… really?” Harry blinked.

 

“I’ll quiz you tomorrow.” Skull ruffled Harry’s hair, gaining a swat to his hands for the action.

 

“I thought we were, uh… leaving?” Harry asked with a frown as he watched Skull pull out a cloth and wipe down his hands. A moment later and Skull was rubbing Harry's hands with the cloth. Working away the black smears even as Skull purposely drew out the silence to increase a nonexistent tension.There was way too much teeth in Skull’s grin, and perhaps too much smile in his eyes. Finally, he answered, “it’s a long plane ride. You’ve never been on a plane before—it’s best to have a distraction.”

 

“It can’t be that.. that…” Harry waved a hand, trailing off even as he caught sight of just how clean the appendage was now.

 

“Disorienting? Disconcerting?” Skull was grinning so much that his nose got a bit of a wrinkle as he pulled the cloth away from Harry's hand, rolled it in to the ball, and shot it like a basketball in to a distant trashcan.

 

“Yeah, that. It can’t possibly be that bad.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Skull shrugged and jumped to his feet. A moment later he hauled Harry up by the hand. “Maybe you’re made of stronger stuff, then?”

 

“I was made to fly,” Harry couldn’t help but grin. “No silly plane will conquer me.”

 

Skull threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled Harry in to his side. “Hey, you’re kind of cold. Do you need a jacket?” Skull asked as they moved out of the parking space for the bike and in to the empty garage.

 

“I’m fine,” Harry muttered, arms crossed because he actually was a bit chilled. It was already May!

 

Harry jumped when a leather jacket dropped around his shoulders.

 

It was heavy.

 

And very black and purple.

 

Skull merely tucked the jacket firmly around Harry’s hunched shoulders before throwing an arm back across their apparent preferred spot when they were walking. Harry huffed when Skull pulled them back in to walking, and soon they were out of the garage with the door firmly locked behind them and out on the street.

 

Skull chattered—that bike was his personal baby. His agent was going to make sure it went with them to the Americas. Although it wasn’t for stunt driving. It was not made for that. Too heavy. It would just cause accidents.

 

“You didn’t have to do that—“ Harry finally spoke up, even as Skull pointedly made it clear they were going to an Italian place for dinner. “You know…” Harry shrugged his shoulders, eyes away.

 

The gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder briefly tightened. “I know,” Skull murmured.

 

A pause, and then, “and you look like such a cute little kid all dressed up in my punk—“

 

“Oi! Leave it!” Harry shoved his arms through the sleeves, if only to reduce the dressing up look and to shrug off the arm over his shoulders as he ducked through the door of the Italian place Skull had picked for them. Skull followed close behind, all grins and good cheer.

 

A little bit of teasing now and then was alright.

 

“Wallet?” Skull prompted, and Harry fished through the inner pockets before he found what he assumed was a wallet. It was folded, thick, and made from leather.

 

“… did you put… small spikes on your wallet?” Harry couldn’t throw the monstrosity at Skull fast enough. Throwing it a bit wide just to watch Skull scramble to snatch it from the air with speed that could rival Harry’s own seeker quick hands.

 

Skull huffed, “just because your fashion sense—“

 

“That’s not fashion! It’s an _accident_ waiting to happen.” Harry shoved at Skull’s arm, and denied to himself that he wasn’t annoyed that his stick arms couldn’t make Skull’s solid body fly away in a proper shove.

 

Skull tossed his wallet in to the air and caught it with a flourish. “Just wait, in a few weeks you’ll be all for the leather and spikes. It is fashionable!”

 

“In your dreams,” Harry huffed.

 

Skull’s eyebrow wiggles earned a swift cuff to the shoulder.

 

They ordered their food, took a seat, and sat in comfortable silence while they waited for their meal. It arrived swiftly, and Harry took a moment to really admire how pretty the food could look. Harry had never presented any of his own hand made meals with such a skill. Never was a need. The elves at Hogwarts had kept things neat, but never fancy.

 

But here, with swirls of sauce in pretty shapes…

 

“How are you affording all of this?” Harry asked, reluctant to pick up a spoon.

 

Skull had already dived in, three spoonfuls in to his soup by the time Harry had spoken. Skull leaned an elbow on their little table and let his body list a bit to the side. “… well, I’m a stuntman. I do dangerous things. Things that could go very wrong very quickly. The higher the danger—the bigger the pay check.”

 

That… did not sit well with Harry.

 

In fact, he _immediately_ hated the idea.

 

Skull’s eyes flickered over Harry’s features, and he quirked a comforting smile even as he reached out with his other hand and patted Harry on the head. Harry didn’t bother to lean back and out of reach. The action was strangely comforting. “Don’t worry. I’m very skilled. I have a lot of practice with machines. And stunts. I won’t get hurt on a bike—I’m practically immortal while in the seat.”

 

“… no one is immortal.” Harry pointed out, eyes falling to the table.

 

“True—that is true. But I swear, as long as I’m on a bike—I’ll never be hurt. Never fear that.” Skull swore.

 

And Harry believed it.

 

The minestra d’orzo was perhaps the best thing he had tasted yet while eating with Skull. But Harry would reserve such a judgment for further in the future.

 

“Thank you,” Harry said.

 

Skull grinned, and swiftly poked Harry between the eyebrows. Harry’s head jerked back slightly, followed by the rest of his body.

 

“Stop that!” Harry was very much tempted to throw his spoon at Skull.

 

“It’s too much fun! I can’t help it!” Skull laughed.

 

Harry sighed, and believed that too. Impulse control. Harry was starting to believe that Skull didn’t have that in his considerable repertoire of life skills.

 

Which was fine. Harry had some experience there.

 

“Eat,” Skull pointed out, a gentle poke to Harry’s forehead bringing him back out of his mental wanderings. Harry sighed and rather accepted the fact that the forehead poking was just going to be a constant thing for them.

 

“Fine, fine…” It was no hardship to eat the soup, after all.

 

Harry ate, and listened to Skull to continue on his chatter—this time it was about basic stunts. Peppered with promises to hold a small show just for Harry once they arrived in America.

 

Once they reached America.

 

And left Britain behind.

 

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest at the thought.

 

For good or for ill, change was coming. Harry felt like he was ready.

 

Looking at Skull, Harry felt that he was ready for anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIDE NOTE; I don't drive a motorbike. The research could have been better. I hope I don't annoy any bike lovers with that. 
> 
> I'm still alive. I've recently been a bit more invested in my life. Over the next two months my job will have a sudden decrease in hours. So I'm trying to get a second thing going to pay my bills. So I've been scrambling a bit. 
> 
> This story is pretty much just a series of chapters for healing. When Harry and Skull are functioning well enough I'll probably end this and start another story based in this universe... because I had a great idea a few hours ago of where I want this to go. There will be development eventually. I'm excited. Of course Carry On has my official priority until it's done. But these chapters are quick stress relief for me.
> 
> And just for a fun tidbit. I re-learned that I love having my face painted. I was a fabulous unicorn on Friday. Clay horn and all. 
> 
> Hope you all had fun! If you guys want to see Harry and Skull do anything in particular, comment down below! I do read everything, even if I don't respond. (I'm terrible, I know. Sorry...) Thank you for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening in the hotel. A little Q and A. 
> 
> A final letter. 
> 
> A goodbye.

 

“So, where are you from?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. They had moved hotels to one next to the airport. Skull’s ‘mysterious agent’ had moved their things (which was really just Skull’s things) while they had been fiddling with the bike.

 

It was a nice new place with plain beige and soothing blue accents. Harry was sprawled over the bed, head over the side and watching Skull from the upside down angle of the lazy. Skull, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed next to Harry head, hummed and let the silence stretch out.

 

“Seriously. I’m from Surrey. You?” Harry tilted his head just slightly, so he could see the profile of Skull’s face. Harry’s glasses quickly slipped from the movement, and he hastily shifted to jerk a hand to push them back—Skull’s fingers got there first. With a smile he pushed the glasses back up Harry’s nose.

 

Skull let out a puff of air, “those glasses are hideous, you know.”

 

Harry scrunched up, “what about it?”

 

“Would you want a different style?” Skull asked, “did you even pick those?”

 

“… No, my aunt picked them out. A long time ago. And I just… never bothered to change them.” Harry stumbled slightly over the thought, the hand he had jerked up to catch his glasses finally inched over to run a finger over the bottom of the rims.

 

Skull hummed. “You ever heard of contacts?”

 

Harry mutely shook his head.

 

“They’re soft and kind of jelly like… uh, glass? Plastic? Anyway, you stick them in to your eye and voila! No more glasses.” Skull even added a charming smile to that.

 

“… Do you.. uh, wear these contact things?” Harry asked.

 

“Nope! I’ve got eagle eyes.” Skull grinned, giving Harry several exaggerated blinks before he lowered his eyes to the boot that he was currently polishing. Harry pressed his lips in to a line and let his eyes drop down to look at the boot that Skull’s pale hands were evenly rubbing the polish in to.

 

“… so… where are you from?” Harry asked after the silence had dragged on too long. “And how old are you?” He tacked that on, because Harry had always just assumed that they were the same age. But the longer that Harry stayed, the more mature Skull seemed to be. The older he seemed to be.

 

Skull idly rubbed the last of the polish in and set the boot down on the laid down newspapers that currently supported his other finished shoe. He closed his polish lid as he spoke, “usually I like to keep things hush-hush. Because it adds to the mystery of it.” Skull began, even as he cleaned up the small mess he had made. “I’m twenty, so I’m not that much older.”

 

Harry watched the purple haired man shift to his feet, careful not to touch the floor as he shuffled to the open door of the bathroom to stick his hands under the water. “As for where I’m from… well—I suppose Rome?”

 

“Suppose?” Harry asked, raising his voice to be heard over the gush of sink water.

 

“Yes. Suppose. I was abandoned as an infant in a… a…” Skull trailed off as he turned the water off. He stared down at his hands for a long moment, and Harry silently watched the man from where he was still upside down. “I was left in a Roman _ospizio_.”

 

“A what?” Harry was rather sure that was a foreign word.

 

Skull shook out his hands and bumbled for a towel before returning to the room and dropping to sit on the floor once again. “It was kind of an orphanage…? A lot of unwed mothers abandoned their babies there. And if your parent wanted to promise that they’d come back for you when they’re able to support you… they’d leave a token. A picture or a coin. Something.” Skull gave a little shrug, slumping back to turn and look Harry in the eyes. Their faces were so close, inches apart, completely eye to eye, although one of them was upside down.

 

“Where is your token?” Harry asked, voice hushed. Because he had a creeping feeling from the tone of Skull’s voice…

 

“My mother never left a token.” Skull’s vibrant eyes glanced down briefly, before they flickered back up to lock eyes with Harry once more.

 

“My parents forgot to write a will, despite knowing there was a high chance of being murdered.” Harry blurted out, before he could think better of it.

 

Skull’s eyebrows briefly furrowed, before his expression eased. It obviously took him a moment to change gears, but the same inelegant, “what?” came tumbling out of his mouth despite his pause to think.

 

“Um… I’m an orphan too. My whole life, really.” Harry answered with a blink. The minor sting of dead parents had faded a long time ago. It didn’t hurt—and honestly, Harry wasn’t sure if the loss had ever really hurt rather than the phantom clench of ‘what could have been’. While Harry wound never regret summoning his parents on that walk to the end—and meeting them at least once in his life… in the end, they had always been dead. And that was just how it was.

 

“You feel things so viciously, don’t you?” Skull sounded perhaps a bit incredulous.

 

Harry frowned, “.. What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You’re very keen to ease the suffering of others because you can feel it too. Empathy.” Skull offered, a hand out and patting Harry’s cheek softly. “You should also sit up before too much blood rushes to your head. Or at least get on your belly.”

 

Harry let out a puff of air, but decided to listen to the advice and rolled on to his stomach if only to ignore the heat pulling in his ears. Harry rolled away from Skull and nearly off of the bed in his movement to get on to his stomach.

 

Ultimately, Harry decided that he was going to pretend that Skull never said any of that—instead… there was a more pressing matter. “Why is there only one bed?”

 

“You didn’t protest a cuddle in the last room,” Skull cheerily pointed out as he moved to stand.

 

“Well… yeah—I wasn’t going to make you get a new room. I just thought…” Harry trailed off. Actually rather unsure of what he had thought.

 

Skull hummed, “well, you never protested, so I didn’t bother to get it changed. Do you care?”

 

Harry thought of the war. The hunger and cold. Ron gone and he and Hermione huddled under a shared blanket not just for cold—but because of the loss of that third person of their group that should have been there but wasn’t and—

 

Harry sputtered and swatted Skull’s hand when the purple man jabbed Harry’s forehead once again. It always jarred him out of his thoughts whenever the man did this.

 

“I don’t particularly… mind the space.” Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm.

 

Skull smiled and shuffled about to lay out his clothes for the next day. And then helpfully did the same for Harry’s soon to be newly borrowed set that he would wear on the plane tomorrow.

 

Although after Skull finished draping out some distressed jeans, he paused and patted the chair he had draped Harry’s clothing over. Harry watched Skull for a moment longer as the man ran his fingers over the outfit he had set out. And then Harry pillowed his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Harry merely listened to Skull as the man shuffled around the room to finish his preparations.

 

Harry blinked his eyes and squinted ahead. The room was dark. And there was a weight behind him. Harry muzzily shifted and looked behind. The arms around his waist were heavy. There was Skull, make-up free but still very, very pale. Harry rolled a bit more so he could face Skull, rather than away. The Skull’s arms were loose and allowed the movement.

 

Harry glanced down the length of their bodies—Skull had gotten in to pajamas, but Harry was still in jeans. They weren’t even under the covers. The hotel’s AC unit kept the temperature mild, and the covers weren’t necessary. But Harry found himself longing for the heavy weight of Skull’s arms distributed over the rest of his body. In a way only a blanket could do it. Harry shifted, and looked up to find a pillow under his head. Their heads.

 

Of course Skull would be completely willing to put their pillow at the foot of the bed, and their feet where the pillows should have been.

 

It was… nice.

 

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. And then paused—how could he see everything? He blinked open his eyes again and looked around the room. At the cracked door to the bathroom where the light was still flickered on. That was a nice compromise compared to the bedside light that Harry kept turning back on in the old hotel room (but never told Skull why he kept doing it—but Skull didn’t attempt to turn it back off after the first time).

 

Harry didn’t care much for the dark—especially after the forest.

 

… it was… it made his body itch.

 

Harry rolled on to his back and stared up at the ceiling. After a long moment of silence—of his skin itching and the back of his eyes stinging—Harry rolled around of Skull’s arms and stood up. Harry glanced down to his bare feet and shifted side to side. He looked down at Skull for a long moment before he edged away to go stand by the window.

 

In a few hours, he would be on a plane. To the Americas. With an official passport. And no return date.

 

He hadn’t told anyone he was going. Or where he had been the last several days.

 

Harry rubbed his dry eyes with the heels of his hands for a long moment before he swiped the hotel room stationary and the pen that came with the room and inched in to the bathroom. Harry closed the bathroom door behind himself and sat down on the floor. He folded his legs and leaned back against the tub, enjoying the chill.

 

He sat on the floor with a pen in hand, jittering loops on to the first page as he familiarized himself with the flimsy weight and balance of a muggle pen. Once satisfied, Harry plucked the page off and let it drop.

 

There were 9 skinny stationary pages left.

 

Harry scribbled his first line.

 

_‘I’m not coming back.’_

 

Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt hem before shoving them on to his nose. He amended the first statement with a, _‘not yet.’_

 

A pause. _‘I can’t.’_

_‘Looking back over my life in the wizarding world and Britain itself… I was a slave to the will of others. I finished a war that I didn’t make. That should be enough.’_

 

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slow.

 

_‘This war started because of the misuse of a love potion, and the abuse of a muggle. It just… got worse and worse. You know the story. Make sure all of the books get it right.’_

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment before he pulled himself together enough to continue with the last few wobbly words.

_‘I’m going now.’_

_‘Please don’t come find me.’_

_‘… but if you are in need… I have my galleon.’_

 

Harry sighed his name on the bottom. Then went to the first page and penned out who he was addressing it to. Harry dropped the pen and pulled his glasses off. He tilted his head back and stared blandly up at the blurred ceiling.

 

Well. There was his out.

 

Harry just didn’t have the words to articulate it better than this. But he was sure the message came across loud and clear. Harry couldn’t see anyone understanding this stupid letter but her. Harry took several deep breaths and tore the papers off of the pad and folded it in half. It was four papers, skinny and long and cheap. Harry stared at the hotel emblem emblazoned over the top. A sun surrounded by a rainbow.

 

Well, when she got it—by then he’d be on a plane.

 

By then—by then he would be so much father then he had ever been before.

 

Harry tossed the pen in to a corner and stood. “Ah…” His leg had fallen asleep! He shook it out for a moment before he pulled open the door of the bathroom, “ _—SHIT!_ ” Harry would never admit to the shriek itself as he came face to face with Skull. Skull rubbed at his eye.

 

“… Gotta use it.” Skull mumbled. Harry nodded and edged around the now shirtless man.

 

Skull had left the bedside table on.

 

Harry stared at the light, only jumping when the bathroom door shut behind him.

 

Well. Now was his chance. Harry pulled his wand out of the back of his waistband and moved to the window. Harry grimaced at the itching feeling in his fingers, and shoved the hotel window up. Harry stuck his head out, and then the rest of his body.

 

This was not going to be painless. Harry raised his wand, and broke the anti-owl ward.

 

Harry counted the seconds.

 

It took to the count of 48 before the first owl appeared.

 

Harry casted the ward again—and then summoned the owl he could visually see. It was a tiny thing that he slowed the movement of magically until the owl hovered in front of him. Harry groaned, and threw up a little bit in his mouth. He was nauseous—and he was very much aware of every second that he was holding the wand.

 

It burned and itched and it was like the touch of an inferi—

 

Harry looked to the owl—and recognized Pig.

 

Silently, Harry used magic to remove the letter from Pig’s leg. And then magically tied the new letter in to place.

 

“To Hermione Granger.” Harry choked, and banished the owl away. Harry watched Pig flutter around for a few seconds before gaining height and disappearing in to the night.

 

Harry looked to the magically hanging letter in the air.

 

_Oh_ …

 

That was Ginny’s handwriting.

 

Harry reached out and plucked it out of the air.

 

The nausea became too much—and he promptly retched. Harry fisted the letter in his hand, somehow shoving his wand up his sleeve as he heaved forward—

 

A second later he was in the hotel with a towel over his lap and a wide eyed Skull next to him.

 

“Food poisoning?” Skull asked, distinctive eyebrows scrunched together in sleepy concern.

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak—and vomited.

 

“Augh, gross!” Skull gagged audibly next to Harry and scuttled away.

 

Harry choked on his laughter.

 

Very much gross laughter.

 

Harry calmed down soon enough. It took a little bit (and some more gagging from Skull) before the second expulsion of mostly stomach acid to be cleaned up. Skull shoved Harry in to the bathroom tub and forced a shower before even letting Harry near the bed again.

 

“I can still smell it,” Skull grumbled sprawled over the bed.

 

Harry tiredly rolled his eyes and calculated his drop before he flopped down next to Skull. At just the perfect angle for his wet hair to flop over Skull’s sleep shirt and start to soak it.

 

“Rude,” Skull didn’t even bother to look down from the ceiling.

 

“Dramatic.” Harry croaked back. Skull silently passed over a wrapped peppermint candy.

 

Harry didn’t say anything as he unwrapped it and popped it in to his mouth. “… Why did you have this in your pocket?”

 

“… There is nothing wrong with mint candies.” Skull mumbled.

 

“Are you a sugar addict?” Harry held the clear plastic trash up before he twisted just enough to shove it in to Skull’s pajama pockets.

 

“… I’m not particularly fond of most sweets. But I enjoy minty things.” Skull murmured, his body going lax despite the obviously growing wet spot on his shirt, courtesy of Harry’s hair.

 

Harry took his glasses off and wiped away a smudge. He hadn’t bothered to get any pajamas. He had just pulled out the outfit that Skull had set out for him before Harry had fallen asleep.

 

The world was slowly getting brighter outside of their hotel window before Harry shifted his head and looked up at Skull’s sleeping face. Harry stared for a moment before he settled. He pulled out the crumpled letter he had shoved away before and silently broke the seal.

 

The paper didn’t feel like magic.

 

The paper was long once unfolded.

 

The letter was short.

 

_‘Dear Harry,_

_I’ve always dreamed about you—perhaps that is where things went wrong. Before I even met you. I grew up on stories about you. A child hero. A little prince. And then first year happened. You saved me. That made it feel so real. The thought of fighting for those you love, I adored the thought. I dreamed of it. Fighting for those you love, fighting for the one you love. Winning their attention. Happily ever after._

_This is the sixteenth letter I’ve sent after you’ve disappeared. It hurts. Like stones in my chest. And I desperately wish to return to the sky._

_There is nothing beautiful about having to keep convincing you to love me._

_I’ve gotten your message. And while I’ll always be a little bit in love with you, neither of us want this. You obviously don’t want me. And I can live with that._

_Wherever you are. Whatever you do… I hope the best for you._

_With love,_

_Ginny.’_

 

The final goodbye of the letter was pockmarked with tear stains.

 

Harry blinked away his reflexive tears.

 

Oh.

 

_… oh._

 

Harry slowly crumpled the letter up.

 

Harry couldn’t even recall the last time he cried.

 

And they burned.

 

Why was he crying?

 

_... relief?_

 

Harry shoved the letter away along with that bitter realization and hid his face. Why was he crying? He hadn’t thought of Ginny in days—and she deserved better. She deserved so much better than what he had given her. A year of total war, no attempt at communication. And then he had just disappeared. And… and…

 

The warm arms around his waist pulled him out of his spiral. Harry lowered his hands, and stared up at Skull as the other hovered by his side.

 

“Go ahead and let it out—once you’re done, you’ll be a bit done with crying on the inside, too.” Skull murmured, shifting in close to wrap Harry up in his arms.

 

The touch burned. Just like the tears.

 

But at the same time…

 

Harry welcomed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uh. Hi. 
> 
> Things have been... eventful. I posted so many chapters in Carry On last time because I got desperately sick and physically had no voice for a while. I got better. And then I injured my shoulder and have been in pain the last five or so days (I've spent so much money and time on the Doctor the last few days and I want to cry... but it was my dominant arm and I had to know.. It hurt to move it. Now my wallet hurts.). 
> 
> With my job problems... anxiety and stress... It wasn't conductive to writing. My creative side finally grew larger than the stress, and this popped out. I have about 2k written for the next Carry On chapter. I'm just waiting till my stress and anxiety goes down enough where I can write again.
> 
> Once again... Ginny has appeared in her own way. Just not as impactful as Carry On Ginny. And Harry is conflicted. And FYI I'm just kind of making up Skull backstory. So I hope you guys like me slowly building him up. And him slowly pulling Harry together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations in airports and on airplanes.   
> Too much time to think.

The airplane ticket burned in his pocket. Harry walked with his hand pressed firm over the breast pocket of his (Skull’s, technically) jacket, and the fingers of his other hand wrapped up in the handle of his duffle bag. It was a half inflated thing, mostly filled with whatever Skull had tossed at him over the course of the last two days and had frantically stuffed in during their last minute packing after they had woken up later than planned.

 

Harry’s head felt heavy. In fact, it was so heavy that it had made its home against Skull’s upper arm (to avoid the jacket shoulder spikes). It took a lot of effort to hunch so much and to keep contact with Skull since Skull was only a smidgeon taller.

 

“You should have dried your hair before laying down,” Skull pointed out with too much cheer.

 

Harry growled, “why did your shirt keep disappearing last night?”

 

Skull didn’t answer, and Harry straightened up and really looked to Skull. They were standing in line, so Harry didn’t have to keep looking forward.

 

Skull was looking pointedly away.

 

“… no, seriously. Tell me! Why did you keep taking it off and putting it back on?” Harry reached out and snagged Skull’s elbow as Skull slowly started to turn away the more Harry stared. Skull pressed his lips together, making them disappear in to a line as his eyes focused to something as far right as he could.

 

Harry stared. And hoped that it was making Skull sweat in nerves.

 

The line shuffled forward.

 

Harry, still holding on to Skull’s elbow, shuffled in closer and pointedly leaned in to Skull’s space. And kept leaning in more and more until Harry had just about shoved his nose in to Skull’s neck, and the purple haired man was leaning as far away as he could while he still kept his feet planted.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and started a slow steady stream of air against Skull’s neck.

 

The man shivered, and quickly raised his hands and covered his neck, “that’s a bit much!”

 

“Come on, I asked nicely!” Harry shifted so he stood in front of Skull rather than next to him.

 

“Nope!”

 

“Oh, come on!”

 

“Nope, nope, _nope!_ ”

 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous…” Harry grumbled.

 

The shuffled up to the counter. The check in attendant was all blue and wide practiced smiles. She uttered a happy good morning and soon had their one check on luggage on the scale. Harry watched the scale numbers stabilize, the lady stick on a ticket and then place the hard case off to the side.

 

Soon, Skull had a hand on the small of Harry’s back, and shuffled the two of them off to go and find their gate.

 

There was… a lot of people.

 

They did find their gate. Their very crowded gate.

 

“… why are there so many people?” Harry grumbled as he tried to find someplace to sit. They still had a considerable amount of time before they would actually be on the plane. “Six in the morning is way too early..” And his head still felt stuffy and a bit hot.

 

“Well, the great and mighty LA is a swell place to be?” Harry could hear the smile in Skull’s words, even if he couldn’t see it. Skull took Harry’s hand and tugged the teen along through the crowded aisles of luggage and stretched out legs all the way to… a single open seat.

 

“… I’m not going to sit while you stand.” Harry pointed out as he stared at the seat.

 

“Who said you were going to sit?” Skull grinned as he dropped in to the seat.

 

Harry felt the lump in his throat as his face heated up. Why had he expected that? It was silly…

 

Of course, the hands suddenly on his hips made him jump (when did he close his eyes?) and drop the bag to their feet as Skull tugged him forward until Harry found himself kneeling over Skull’s lap. This was… a bit much.

 

“Isn’t this a bit too close?” Harry frowned, hands raised and not really knowing where to put them. At least his legs had room on both sides of Skull’s own, otherwise this position would be rather uncomfortable. He didn’t really want to actually sit down all the way. Weren’t human being heavy? “How is this even comfortable for you?”

 

“I like having you close.” Harry hated the way that Skull could speak so frankly with utterly no embarrassment. In fact, Harry glanced to Skull’s upturned face, and found nothing to even hint that the man was feeling self-conscious over their positions. Skull’s hands were hot on his hips. Firm.

 

The people in the next row over behind Skull were openly gawking at them.

 

Harry sunk down, hunching as if that could make himself disappear out of their view.

 

“Is it that bad, being so close?” Skull asked, head cocked to the side.

 

Harry focused his gaze on Skull’s zipper. To the gaudy skull emblem was easy to catch his attention as easy as it was to tease Skull about it (as he had done when he had spotted the accessory that morning…). It was… rather hard to look up, all of the sudden.

 

The hands on his hips inched up, and Harry couldn’t stop the reflexive squirm at the feeling of thumbs framing his belly button. “Harry,” Skull called. And then didn’t continue.

 

Harry didn’t look up, and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I was checking for ticks!” Skull finally huffed.

 

“… wait, what?” Harry looked up, and wrinkled his nose at Skull’s grin.

 

“… the shirt thing, last night—my top was itchy. And it just… felt like ticks. So I had to check. That’s why I needed the mirror. It was freaking me out.” Skull didn’t even have the gall to look away when he said that. And once eye locked, Harry couldn’t even bring himself to break the contact.

 

“… oh. That’s weird.” Harry flatly replied. Because how was one supposed to respond to that.

 

“Hey, is not! Ticks are disgusting.” Skull even stuck his tongue out.

 

If Harry was petty enough, he would have grabbed that tongue.

 

No, he was more concerned about the fact that he was actually fully seated on Skull’s lap rather than hovering up. And the hands were no longer supporting him, but just reading on his waist. It was weird. Harry stared down at where Skull’s hands were.

 

“.. is it distasteful?” Skull asked, squeezing his fingers minutely.

 

“… It’s weird.” Harry mumbled, relaxing his arms.

 

“Bad weird?” Skull asked.

 

“… No.” Harry sighed. “Not a bad weird. Just… weird. I’m not used to… used to…” Harry trailed off, trying to reach for words but knowing he wouldn’t find the right ones anyway.

 

“Friendly contact?” Skull supplied.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “excessively friendly contact.”

 

Skull’s smile was too nice—it should be considered a weapon for coercion. Harry found his heart thudding just from the sight of it.

 

Skull gently squeezed Harry’s middle again. “You need to eat more,” Skull added.

 

“Isn’t there going to be food on the plane?” Harry sighed, because he knew his weight was a bit ridiculous (he could see his own ribs and he hated it…). And… well… Skull was muscled. Harry wished he was as muscled as Skull was.

 

“Hmm, yeah. But not enough… I saw a café a little bit ago. I’ll get you a second breakfast. A muffin just isn’t enough. Especially a hotel breakfast one.” Skull quirked a smile and stood up. Turned. And deposited Harry in the vacated seat.

 

Harry stared.

 

Wow. Skull hadn’t even let out a grunt of effort for that move. Hell, Harry hadn’t even had the time to tense up, it happened so smoothly.

 

Skull nudged their shared carry on bag to sit next to Harry’s feet, saluted, and sauntered away.

 

The woman on his left eagerly leaned in, and Harry reflexively leaned back and away from the blond woman. “Your boyfriend is rather strong isn’t he?” She giggled.

 

“Um, yeah, that was… wait, hey—!” Harry stumbled, the word ‘boyfriend’ echoing loudly a few seconds after he acknowledged it.

 

The woman on Harry’s opposite side leaned in as well. “That leather did nothing to hide those legs, either.” There was so much giggling! The tone was strange, and Harry clasped his hands together to hide the jitters as he leaned back. Looking rapidly back and forth between the two women as they started to really pick apart Skull’s appearance. The ‘sexy spikes’ and the ‘luminescent eyes’ and… well, Harry didn’t have a chance to even reply.

 

Didn’t even know what to say.

 

“Could you imagine waking up in the morning to that gorgeous face?” The blond woman cooed to the black haired lady.

 

Harry’s eyes drifted to the side. Well, he could remember waking up with Skull. And seeing the other sleep. And being prodded awake by the man. And all the close ups. All the…

 

“—again!?” Harry’s hands jerked up and slapped over his own forehead, hiding it away from Skull’s prodding fingers. Harry huffed, and just waited for another cloudy comment.

 

“Thinking good thoughts?” Skull asked. Harry paused—because that statement was not what he had expected. It wasn’t part of the script. And that was strange.

 

But then again, he hadn’t been thinking of… well…

 

Harry jumped as Skull moved and settled over Harry’s lap with a grin. It effectively pinned Harry down, and the sudden rush of warmth immediately captured Harry’s attention. “Here,” Skull offered, and pressed a breakfast sandwich to Harry’s lips.

 

“You—“ Harry started, but Skull pushed the sandwich in and Harry reflexively bit down instead of completely his thought. Eggs. Fluffy. Bacon. Tomato. Lots of cheese. Rather fatty food between sourdough slices. Harry raised his hands to take the sandwich, but Skull merely tutted and held the sandwich out of reach, and deposited a glass bottle of… milk? Chocolate milk? Harry numbly turned the chilled bottle around and stared at the label as he swallowed.

 

“… You got me… chocolate milk?” Harry wished his face wasn’t on fire.

 

“Well, I’d have gotten you coffee… but I’d rather you sleep on the flight. And not have to get up a gazillion times to use the loo.” Skull hummed, and the sandwich was back.

 

Harry numbly complied.

 

… well, it seemed that Skull wanted to feed him by hand.

 

Harry shivered, he could literally feel the not-subtle stares of the women next to him on either side. Oh wow—these women had been chattering about Skull and Harry hadn’t been listening and… hopefully they weren’t displaying some weird fantasy the two had concocted over Harry’s lap and—

 

“Hah, you must be in a good mood,” Skull smiled, crumbling the paper wrapper in to a fist with one hand, and tapping the metal spin cap of the bottle. Harry popped it open and took a sip.

 

… it was sweet.

 

Skull slumped down, pressing his forehead against Harry’s shoulder with his arms sneaking around Harry’s middle in a hug.

 

“… you’re surprisingly not as heavy as I expected.” Harry murmured, staring at the milk.

 

Skull chuckled. “Weird?” Skull asked.

 

“Yeah—you’re weird.” Harry mumbled, eyes to the side. And caught the full on stare of the blond woman. Harry jerked, immediately looking away and straight ahead.

 

Oh, the people in the seats across from him were staring too. Harry miserably closed his eyes and wished that he didn’t feel their eyes. Wished that he was as comfortable as Skull was.

 

“Good weird?” Asked Skull. Harry could feel the breath of Skull’s words on his throat.

 

Harry shivered.

 

“… dunno.” Harry squeezed his eyes. Best not to look at the staring.

 

“I’ll take that as being favorable.” Skull hummed and gave Harry a gentle squeeze. The pressure was nice.

 

“… weird…” Harry grumbled, cracking open his eyes so he could at least see the milk as he sipped at it.

 

The silly purple haired man actually giggled.

 

Harry drained the bottle and stuck the lid on it. Skull pulled it out of his hand shortly and was off, dumping the trash in to a nearby trash can.

 

The women on either side of Harry started to hysterically giggle.

 

Harry dropped his face in to his hands and mutely decided to ignore it. Not look at anyone.

 

Skull’s hand was as ever gentle as Skull captured Harry’s hand and pulled the teen to his feet. Skull had already picked up their bag and swiftly hauled Harry toward the rather empty looking gate.

 

“But… but they haven’t called for anyone yet.” Harry hurried to stay in step.

 

“Didn’t you look at your ticket? First class all the way!” Skull laughed, rushed them through the check on, and soon had them seated in rather roomy chairs with glasses of juice.

 

Harry slumped down in his seat. There was a window to his left. And Skull to his right. They had a private little row, all of their own.

 

Although Harry grimly noticed that the blond lady was soon seated two rows up and to the far right of the plane. Harry drained his glass and mutely passed it over to Skull.

 

“Just close your eyes and sleep, alright?” Skull tossed Harry a blanket and sat back himself as he pulled out a crossword that Harry didn’t know where he had gotten from. Harry nodded and made sure he was buckled in before winding the small blanket around his shoulders.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

… Harry tried to sleep. He really did. He kept his eyes closed for the takeoff. And for some time that they were in the air. And… well, his eyes felt gritty when he finally gave up and opened them. Harry stared at the back of the seat in front of himself. Harry grimaced and turned his head to look at Skull… who was chewing on the end of his pen and staring at the crossword.

 

“Hey, what’s an eight lettered word for a horned animal?” Skull asked.

 

“.. dunno, unicorn?” Harry croaked.

 

“That’s only seven letters,” Skull mumbled after a moment of silently spelling the English word and counting with the fingers of one hand.

 

“Um…” Harry blankly stared.

 

“Oh! Narwhale!” Skull clicked his tongue and smiled as he scribbled his answer. “Thanks,” the purple haired man added. Although Harry didn’t see how he could have possibly helped with a wrong answer. All the same… Harry’s eyes went down to the space separating them. To the arm rest.

 

The distance felt rather… large. Even though it wasn’t.

 

“… Skull, can I lean on you?” Harry asked.

 

Skull’s eyes stopped their back and forth flicker over the page. A moment, and Skull looked up to focus on Harry and his face. Skull set down his pen in his crossword book and shut it. He dropped it on to his lap and shifted over to be closer to Harry.

 

“Yeah, lean on me.” Skull murmured, reaching out and brushing a thumb under Harry’s left eye. The hand reached further. Harry could feel a palm cupping his ear, and Harry went with the gentle pull of Skull’s hand, leaning over until Harry felt his cheek rest against Skull’s thankfully jacket free shoulder. Harry appreciated, because he did not want spikes impaling his face.

 

Harry closed his eyes, and Skull’s hand disappeared from the side of his head. Harry focused on deep breathing. Great, he felt close. And he was warm and relaxed.

 

… and still jittery?

 

Harry heard the scribbling of a pen on paper. But Harry didn’t open his eyes to check.

 

He still felt… shaky. A bit unsettled. Had he felt this way this morning? He had woken up after his cry fest to Skull running around the hotel room fully dressed and panicking. Harry hadn’t felt off the whole way over. In fact…

 

He had felt unsettled the moment the blond lady called Skull his boyfriend. His hands had felt shaky. It was a rare thing to happen, so Harry had absently noted the moment that the sensation had stared.

 

Harry curled up further and decided to ignore it.

 

… the thought didn’t go away. Even though logically it should have. Skull was not his boyfriend. Harry didn’t even want a boyfriend. He liked girls. He had liked Ginny and Cho. And in the future there would be more girls for him to like. That was where his future relationships were.

 

Skull was just overly friendly. With all of his touches. And the clothes they shared… and feeding Harry…

 

… it was all rather personal. Actually.

 

Harry squinted at the seat in front of himself.

 

Even if Skull was interested in him, Harry knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. Harry wasn’t interested in men. So… so why was he thinking about it so much?

 

Boys would never be as beautiful as women.

 

… but Skull did have rather elegantly long lower lashes… a clear complexion…

 

But Skull wasn’t slim like a girl. The man was muscled. And obviously strong. And… and…

 

… and very pretty despite that. Harry mentally groaned. Why was he even thinking about this? Nothing would ever happen.

 

“Something on your mind?” Skull asked, and Harry glanced up without moving his head. Skull’s fingers carded through Harry’s hair. And Harry’s mind immediately jumped to the very fact that such a gesture was not only intimate—but Skull had done it before.

 

“I’ve known you for less than a week.” Harry blinked.

 

“Yeah?” Skull hummed, leaning back in his own seat. Harry couldn’t see Skull’s face from this angle.

 

“… is this wrong?” Harry murmured. Was this… off? He had never done any of this with Ron or Hermione. And with Ginny… Harry had pillowed his head in her lap. Or let her sit over his knees. And… and the things he did with Skull were never like the things he had done with them.

 

“Well… I’m not too sure what you’re talking about… but is anyone being hurt?” Skull asked.

 

“… No….” Aside from Harry’s brain, that is.

 

“Then it’s fine. Nothing is wrong if no one gets hurt.” Skull added.

 

That… helped, but didn’t help at the same time. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He was tired of looking at the airplane seat in front of himself. That view was going to get old really fast unless he found something to occupy himself with. Something to do, or falling asleep.

 

“Go to sleep, Harry… unless you want to talk about this ‘wrong’ thing?” Skull asked. The fingers in his hair gentling and petting more than carding through.

 

Harry would rather his deranged thoughts never be given birth to the universe. And he kept his eyes and mouth shut.

 

It was fine. He had Skull. And they were going to the Americas. And, well… maybe life would finally get exciting in a good way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling hysterical. So I wrote this. Ahaha... I'm bad for my own health. 
> 
> Lots of conversations. And intimacy.   
> And denial. 
> 
> As much as I want to smoosh their faces together... Harry is technically a heterosexual man. And a change like that won't even happen in a few days. Intimacy... and love, that stuff takes time. And even physical attraction takes time too, especially if its in a place where not usually found. 
> 
> ... Skull is rather smooth, isn't he? Ahahah... I'm really enjoying it. Perhaps too much. Their conversations are such fun.


End file.
